someone asked me if i regretted meeting you.
the easy answer is 'yes', i guess.
you left a bloody stain on my favorite
shirt, and left a hatred i could never process.
the not-so-easy answer is...
i regret knowing you, and still,
i could never regret all you've put me through.
how could i regret nights of fistfights
dimly lit and wet with tears, blood and
cheap-stolen whisky?
how could i regret running through avenues
and into strangers' houses to escape
knifes and, worse yet, exes?
how could i regret strobe-lights and music
so loud that our bones rattled and laughed
with promises of no tomorrow?
i could never regret lips burning with the seven
shots i just chased with another three, heart burning
with the sight and the taste of someone else.
i could never bring myself to regretting
folley and foolishness, fear and far too
many fallings into the cold concrete.
i could never regret screaming at the top
of my lungs to some stupid song that
said i'd crawl back to you.
i don't regret meeting you.
i regret loving you.
